2013.06.14 - Feeling Nostalgic
Hero Mux - Wednesday, June 12, 2013, 10:07 PM Rogue was feeling nostalgic that evening. She was at a Cajun restaurant, called "Tchoup Shop at d.b.a.". The interior was a little tacky, of course but there was an air of fun. But the gloomy gal in the back was trying to fit in. She was spinning the straw in her glass of Coke, as she waited for her order. She dressed a little differently then she had been lately, with a rolled-up flannel shirt tied just under her chest, a pair of cut-off shorts, and black cowboy boots. Nostalgia. There's 'The South' and there's 'De Sout'. Remy's from 'De Sout', where the old Creole lines run strong and there's an amused sort of affection for southern belles hailing from the eastern borders of Louisiana. Wearing a worn old black sweater and faded blue jeans, Remy stands out more for the voluminous leather Inverness jacket hanging from his shoulders- collar turned up, cinch belt hanging loose, and hands tucked into voluminous pockets. The heavy leather material drags around his calves with each fluid and almost noiseless step as the Cajun steps into the bar. It takes a moment for them to gain momentum, but almost as a unit half the restauarant turns and whistles and hoots approvingly at Remy's entry. He grins broadly, his scarlet eyes glimmering in the low light. "Bonjour, mon amis!" he declares, holding his hands out to the room. "Someone git de man a drink, ah got de powerful tirst an' dat home cookin'," he coos, approaching the portly woman behind the counter and pinching her cheek affectionately. "Mama Bessa, dat cookin' makin' Remy's stomach rumble. You tink you kin git dis poor Cajun chil' a plate of dat jumbalaya?" he asks, his eyes wide and pleading with a puppyish look. The woman guffaws at his appeal and pats Remy's cheek affectionately, turning and preparing him a dish as the Cajun man settles into the barstool next to Rogue. Rogue turned her attention towards Remy as he entered the restaurant. Clearly he was a regular. What she noted specifically was how the other partrons regarded him so highly, even with the noticeable red eyes. Of course he was hot. That was also noticeable. She gave him a sort of awkward, half smile and a muttered hello and drank some of her soda. Her face flushed very lightly. Remy glances sidelong at Rogue as she mumbles at him, then winks surrepitously out the corner of his eye at the woman. It's a long few beats before his food arrives, along with a drink- bourbon, neat, on the rocks. He offers Mama Bessa a broad, swarthy grin and hoists the drink at her in toast. "Merci, mon cher," he tells the cook. Remy takes a long sip of his bourbon, sighs happily, then turns his attention to Rogue. "Never seen you aroun' here before, belle," he informs her. "Visitin', or new in town?" Rogue ordered her food before Remy, she noted to herself but got hers after. Well it was still a welcome sight at the very least. She ordered a very large bowl of gumbo, her first meal of the day. She glanced over at the bourbon in his drink, and added, "El Gordo, thanks." She had a well-forged ID if they cared to ask Rogue turned her eyes towards her new neighbor, "Somethin' like that. Kinda missed home and this seemed like as good'a placed as any. Gumbo any good?" If Gambit considers himself well versed in southern accents, she is from Caldecott County in Mississippi. "Mama Bessa, she be de bes' real Cajun cook in de city. Creole ain' jes food, it be art," Remy explains, waving a spoon in a little circle over his piping hot bowl of jumbalaya. "De gumbo heah taste like it be fished out de bay this mornin'. None better, tho ah tink she be waterin' de drink down a bit," he says a bit more loudly as Mamma passes by. She swats at him with a towel mid-step, and he sticks his tongue out her impishly. Rogue thanked Mama Bessa brought over her beer and took a long sip. She was close enough to being of age. Rogue glanced over to Gambit and smirked, "All this talk, you'd almost think you were here to advertise. Almost." She took a spoonful of the gumbo and there was silence for a few moments. Rogue had been to quite a few of these estabishments since she moved to New York, and so many were just a pale imitation. But this was the real deal, "Holy crap this is amazin' Mama!" She gently nudged him in the arm with a leather gloved hand, "You weren't kiddin'. What's your name handsome?" Remy takes a laconic bite of his meal and chases it down with a sip of bourbon, exhaling happily. "Remy," he says, after a pregnant pause. He flashes those startling red eyes at Rogue grins quickly, and rattles his empty bourbon glass on the bar as one of Mama's helpers moves past. "Jes' Remy. How 'bout you, mon cher? You got a name to go wit dem eyes, or did heaven jes' drop you off for lookin' at?" "Rogue." She utters one simple word. And its all anyone really needed to know. At least it fit. She smiled at him, and resisted the urge to straight-up chow down on her dinner in front of such pleasant company. "Just Rogue. Can't tell ya how nice it is to meet someone sosimilar." She glanced up towards his eyes, wondering if she touched him what sort of power she would absorb, or if it was just the physical mutation. If he was a mutant at all. "Rogue." Even a monosyllablic name like 'Rogue' rolls off that Creole brogue. Remy considers for a moment, then purses his lips and nods, judiciously. "Ah like de soun' of dat. Rogue. Ain't de kinda ting a mommma name her lil' belle, tho. Der a reason you call yourself dat? You on de run, or jes de kinna girl who like runnin'?" Remy stirs his spoon through the creamy bowl in front of him, the meal already half gone, and smiles at the bartender when a fresh bourbon shows up. "I read a book once, it say Remy mean 'Saintly', or sometin' like dat. Don' know how momma picked dat one for me wit dese eyes, but maybe she have a wicked sense of humor, oui?" he asks Rogue half-jokingly, turning the red-on-black gaze towards the girl. "Don't like runnin, but I'm pretty damn good at it at this point." She took a couple more bites of her meal, hers is now about halfway eaten as well. Rogue looked up at those sharp peepers after she wiped off her mouth, "Or Rembrant, maybe. The painter? Either way still makes for a good birth name. Mine's much more borin. Speakin of them eyes" She moved closer, so no one around might hear, and whispered just near his ear, "Mutant righ'?" I don't recognize "Ranzz". Remy takes a lingering bite of his meal and leans back sideways, his lips just brushing the hair near Rogue's ear. "That'd be tellin', wouldn' it?" he murmurs, just as inaudibly. He withdraws from her personal space, albeit slowly, his face hovering an inch from hers for just a moment. He holds her gaze for a moment, then winks and smiles flickeringly at her. "Awful personal question for someone you jes' met," he says, his voice assuming its normal tone. He drains down his bourbon, sets the glass aside, and rests a fingertip on the rim. "Tell you what. Lets say you buy Remy a drink or two sometime, an' maybe we swap stories, oui?" he says, making it sound like an invitation, even as he rises from his seat. He sets a few bills on the counter and blows a kiss down the bar in Mamma's direction. "You take care, mon ami. Ah see you 'roun' gin, ah'm sure." He looks Rogue up and down appreciateively and with a grin, jams his hands in his pockets to leave. Rogue jerks, away after very slowly realizes how close he was to skin contact ner her ear. There was a very evident blush by that point. For multiple reasons, "Ah, um yeah good point." She snagged an unused napkin from the table and went to her feet, writing her digits onto the napkin and slid it into his hand, "I'm not around here a lot, so text me. Ah'd kinda like to get to know you more." She muttered to herself, "Maybe a little more" She touched at the hair just behind her right ear, "See ya around sometime, hun. Take care now." She watched him as she left, with an obvious look of curiosity and loneliness on her face. Rogue tossed a smirk towards the owner, "Can I get a takeout box? Not feelin' hungry suddenly." Category:Log